


heart trips

by wearing_tearing



Series: reality warping [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom Steve Rogers, Childhood Friends, Fluff and Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Peggy Carter/Angie Martinelli, Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Tattooed Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 17:32:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4314087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky can feel Steve’s breath against his face and it takes all of his strength not to lean in closer and bury his face in Steve’s chest. Because, you see, Bucky being so distracted to the point where he wasn’t looking where he was going and tripped on thin air and almost died? Well, it kind of happened because of Steve.</p><p>Or, you know, more precisely: because of Steve’s <em>pants</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heart trips

**Author's Note:**

> based on this au: _Every time I get in a fight you patch me up but now I’m the one patching you up after your tripped on thin air._
> 
> thank you to whatthehale for reading this over. :*
> 
> also, note that i actually don't know any russian?? so if i've made a terrible mess of the one sentence that's in this fic, pls let me know!! and for the translation: just hover over the text :D

“Ow.”

“Stop being such a baby,” Steve huffs, fingers on Bucky’s cheek so he can move Bucky’s head as he wants it. “You’re barely bruised.”

“‘m hurting,” Bucky sniffs, wincing a little. “You hafta be nicer to me, Steve.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “You were never nice to me when _you_ were patching me up.”

“That’s a bold faced lie, Rogers,” Bucky gasps, all mock offense. “I have _wonderful_ bedside manners. Better than yours, on any count. And I’m surely the prettiest nurse to ever take care of your sorry ass.”

Steve’s lips twitch a little, and Bucky is sure it’s because Steve knows just how full of it he is.

“Plus,” Bucky keeps going. “I didn’t get hurt fighting, unlike _some people_ I know.”

Steve rolls his eyes at that, but a smirk forms on his lips. “You’re right, you certainly didn’t get hurt fighting. It was kinda the opposite of _that_ , wasn’t it?”

“Oh hell,” Bucky groans.

“Honestly, Buck.” Steve shakes his head. “How did you _manage_?”

And Bucky, well.

Bucky was _distracted_ , to tell the honest truth.

And as he sits here on a chair in the middle of their kitchen, Steve’s slim body in between his spread legs as Steve tries to clean off the cut on Bucky’s chin, he can’t help the blood that rushes to his cheeks, tinging them red.

It’s not like he _wanted_ to trip on his own feet and fall face down in the middle of the street.

It just _happened_.

Because, like he said, he was distracted.

And he tells Steve as much, with a small shrug of his shoulders. “Wasn’t payin’ attention, is all.”

“Well, that’s obvious,” Steve deadpans. “You must’ve had something pretty important on your mind to just fall like that, without even lifting an arm to try and brace yourself.”

“Something like that,” Bucky replies faintly, hoping Steve won’t pry.

He shoulda known better.

“What was it?” Steve asks, fingers at Bucky’s throat he can get at the blood smears on his neck.

Bucky tries to suppress a shiver. He thinks he mostly succeeds. He’s even prouder of himself when his voice sounds nothing but steady when he says, “Nothin’.”

“C’mon, tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Bucky lies, fingers curling in his palms where they’re resting on his knees as Steve shifts closer.

Steve looks up, brows furrowing in concern. “You _tripped_ and almost split your head open, Bucky. That ain’t nothing.”

Bucky can feel Steve’s breath against his face and it takes all of his strength not to lean in closer and bury his face in Steve’s chest. Because, you see, Bucky being so distracted to the point where he wasn’t looking where he was going and tripped on thin air and almost died? Well, it kind of happened because of Steve.

Or, you know, more precisely: because of Steve’s _pants_.

 

***

 

Bucky doesn’t remember a time when Steve wasn’t a part of his life.

He guesses that’s what happens when you meet someone when you’re just a little kid. Or at least that’s what happens when Bucky meets Steve when they’re five and then declares him his best friend in between hushed whispers while they’re both waiting in the principal's office for their parents, Bucky with split knuckles and Steve with a black eye.

It just goes on from there, and the years pass, and Bucky can’t recall not following Steve wherever he meant to go.

And that means Bucky’s been there for him, right there beside him, through a lot of shit.

Bucky’s been there through ugly haircuts, terrible hangover days, and even worse sick days. He’s seen Steve through his obsession with joining the army, through his acceptance in a prestigious art program, through project deadlines and sleep deprived weeks. He’s been by Steve’s side when he picked fights he couldn’t finish, when he blurted out that he also liked boys in the middle of playing _Mario Kart_ , and the years and years it took Steve to finally feel comfortable with himself and how he looked.

Bucky’s seen it all, but he still wasn’t _prepared_.

But if there’s one thing he’s also learned about Steve Rogers in the past twenty years is that he never does what’s expected of him. And that, more than anything, should have clued Bucky in.

 

***

 

_eta 10min_

_you better not be working or i will hunt you down steven i s2g_

_i’m too hungry to wait_

_so hungry i could eat my entire left arm_

Bucky makes his way through campus, already counting down the minutes until he can finally dig his teeth into a well-deserved steak taco. He declined Natasha’s invite to grab something to eat with the rest of their Russian grammar and composition class, knowing he’d have to go save Steve from himself unless he wanted his best friend to die of starvation.

“Don’t be dramatic, James,” Natasha had said. “I’m sure Steve can take care of himself.”

Bucky might be a bit dramatic and he also knows about Steve’s ability to take care of himself better than anyone else alive, but he knows, too, just how much Steve can stress over whatever painting he’s working on for class.

Bucky’s phone beeps with a new message, and he lets out a relieved a breath.

_Jerk. I’m waiting for you in the same place as always. :)_

_i’ll try not to faint from hunger on my way there_ , Bucky texts, and walks a little faster.

It’s not a second later when Steve answers him again.

_I’ll leave you right where you fell. There’s no way I’m missing tacos because I have to drag your dumb ass across campus. >:(_

Bucky laughs a little, pocketing his phone and shaking his head as he turns right and finds himself in front of the Arts building.

It’s not that hard to find Steve, as small as he is. Not only because Bucky’s used to trying to find him in a crowd since they were about six, but also because Steve’s blond hair shines bright and gold in the sun, Bucky’s own special beacon of light.

“Like you’d leave me there to die,” are the first words out of Bucky’s mouth as soon as he gets close enough. “You wouldn’t know what to do without me, Stevie.”

“I’d probably have some peace, for once,” Steve says, rolling his eyes at Bucky. He’s sitting on a bench, legs crossed under himself, with a book propped on his lap. “God knows how much of a pain in the ass you can be.”

“Hey!” Bucky protests. “I’m _wonderful_. The best guy you’ll ever meet. I don’t even complain when you make me watch those art history documentaries when we’re having dinner.”

“‘S the least you could do, after finishing my cereal,” Steve tells him, marking his place on the book with a ripped dollar bill. “Or drinking the last of the milk. Or stretching some of my shirts.”

“Your clothes are comfortable.” Bucky shrugs, although he looks a bit sheepish. “And you know how bad I am with laundry.”

“Your Ma’s a saint,” Steve says, shaking his head. “No wonder she was in cloud nine when we told her we were moving in together. She wouldn’t have your stuff stinking up the place anymore.”

Bucky makes a face at him, but still offers Steve a hand up. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Now c’mon, Steve, I’m hungry.”

“Right,” Steve says, shoving his book in his bag and taking Bucky’s hand. “Wouldn’t want you to eat your left arm.”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says. “Might replace it with something better. Maybe a metal arm, like that guy from the comics you like so much.”

“The Winter Soldier?” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“That’s him.” Bucky nods. “Whaddya think? Would it make me look good?”

Steve tilts his head to the side and looks at him, considering. Bucky feels the urge to squirm in place, like he always does whenever he has Steve’s sole attention on him, whether it be because Steve’s drawing him or just looking.

“Dunno, Buck,” Steve finally says after a few seconds, lips curling up. “Just doubt anything could make you look _worse_.”

“Punk,” Bucky says, throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulders and ruffling his hair.

Steve laughs and elbows Bucky in the ribs, trying to get away. Bucky yelps and lets him go, because Steve might be little but he’s strong _and_ he’s bony, and he knows how to use that to his advantage.

And that’s when Bucky sees it.

Or, not sees it, really, but when it catches his eye.

Because now Steve’s a few steps in front of him, standing up and trying to right his crooked glasses on his face, lips still curled in a smile. He’s wearing one of his blue plaid button down shirts, sleeves rolled up at the elbows and showing the tattoos adorning his forearms.

That alone would make Bucky’s mouth go a bit dry. He was there holding Steve’s hand not only when Steve got his first tattoo (the small Staff of Asclepius on his left ribcage in honor of his Ma), but also for most of those he can see now on the pale and thin skin of Steve arms. Bucky knows each and every one of them has a meaning, just as he knows that seeing them makes his blood pump a little faster.

Because, you see, Bucky Barnes has a thing for tattoos.

And he also has a thing for Steve Rogers.

But the visible ink is not what gets him this time, no sir.

What gets him is-

“Are those _leather pants_?” Bucky chokes, eyes so wide he’s pretty sure they’re going to fall out of his face.

Steve stops mid-way through running his fingers through his bangs and looks down at himself.

“Uh, yes.”

Bucky blinks.

And then blinks again.

“You don’t _own_ leather pants,” is all Bucky can come up with, which is a lot better than saying what he’s really thinking.

That being, _oh my god_ and _Steve_ and _is this a dream? did I fall asleep in class again_?

“Nah, _really_.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Peggy actually got this for me from…,” Steve stops, and frowns at himself. “I don’t really know where she got ‘em. Maybe Angie had it?”

Peggy Carter.

Steve’s classmate and ex-girlfriend and their friend Peggy Carter.

Bucky doesn’t now if he wants to thank her or to never speak to her again.

“ _Why_?” Bucky asks, instead of what he really wants to know: _did Peggy do this on purpose_?

Because, you see, _Peggy knows_.

She knows about Bucky’s not-so-little crush on Steve, and approves of it wholeheartedly. She also takes every chance she gets to make fun of Bucky for it and try and convince him to actually _tell_ Steve how he really feels.

Bucky hasn’t listened to her.

And it seems just like her to do this. And just like Angie, Peggy’s girlfriend and a theater major, to help her out with it. Because there’s nothing more than those two like than make Bucky’s life a living hell.

Bucky watches in fascination as the tips of Steve’s ears start turning this adorable shade of read.

“Well,” Steve says slowly, fiddling with the strap of his bag. “There might have been an accident.”

Bucky immediately goes from turned on to concerned, his hands coming to rest on Steve’s shoulders before he even realizes he moved.

“Are you okay? Did you pass out again?” Bucky lets his gaze sweep over Steve’s body, already looking for any signs of injury. “Do you need to sit?”

The last time there was _an accident_ , Bucky ended up getting a call from Peggy telling to meet them at the hospital.

“I’m fine, Buck,” Steve grumbles, pushing Bucky away. “It wasn’t anything bad.”

Bucky lets go, albeit reluctantly. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I just knocked some stuff over and got paint and water on my other pants,” Steve says quietly, head ducked. “You don’t hafta worry so much.”

“Of course I do,” Bucky frowns, poking Steve on the shoulder. “I know I said you wouldn’t know what to do without me, but we all know who’s the real helpless case around here.”

Steve huffs out a small laugh, and Bucky’s heart skips a beat when Steve looks up at him from under his lashes, his thick-framed glasses sliding down a bit from his nose.

“Yeah,” Steve drawls. “Wouldn’t want you to go outside in your fluffy slippers again.”

“It was _one time_!” Bucky throws his arms up. “It was finals week and I was tired and hungry and how was I to know there’d be people at the diner that late, anyway?”

Steve’s smile is big and bright now, and Bucky mentally pats himself in the back for a job well done.

“Speaking of hungry,” Steve says. “Can we get going? I still have to give these pants back to Peggy.”

Bucky bites back a _no, you don’t_ and nods, gesturing with his hand and saying, “Lead the way.”

And that’s when it happens.

Right when Steve turns and gives Bucky a view of his back.

It’s like time slows down, and all Bucky can see is the way the leather molds itself against the swell of Steve’s ass. Round and firm and perfect.

That’s when he trips.

 

***

 

And the problem is, Steve is _still_ wearing the damn pants.

After listening to Bucky’s protests about how he didn’t need to be taken to the hospital and getting him home instead, Steve still hasn’t changed to something more comfortable. And, you know, less likely to make Bucky pop a boner.

Instead he picked up the huge first aid kit they keep in the bathroom, because Steve might be in college, but that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t pick fights with people bigger than him. Sometimes Bucky thinks it actually means the _opposite_ , if he’s being honest with himself.

Which he tries not to be a lot.

Because that’d involve him admitting to himself that he’s been half in love with his best friend for a really long time.

So instead of answering Steve’s question, Bucky just lowers his eyes and asks Steve to, “Drop it.”

“I don’t think so, Buck,” Steve says, eyes narrowed and lips tight. “You got hurt. So whatever it is, tell me and I’ll help.”

Bucky recognizes that look on his face. He’s seen it enough times now to know that means Steve will either push and they’ll end up fighting, or he’ll push and Bucky will end up telling him what’s been bothering anyway.

“There ain’t no helping me, Steve,” Bucky sighs, suddenly tired. He’s also sore all over, and his chin hurts, and all he wants to do is go curl up under his blankets and not get up for maybe ever.

 _Don’t be dramatic, James_ , he can hear Natasha say in his head.

“Bucky,” Steve says, his fingers sliding up Bucky’s throat to rest right under his chin, just shy of the cut, and to tilt his head up. “What’s going o-”

Bucky can’t hide the full body shudder this time, or the low moan he lets out, Steve’s cool fingers leaving a path of heat in their wake and making Bucky’s skin tingle.

“-oh,” Steve breathes out.

And that’s it.

Bucky knows he’s been caught.

Bucky knows that _Steve knows_ , that he figured it out, just from the way Bucky reacted - the _sound_ that he made.

Which is why Bucky tries to push Steve away and stand up, so he can get the fuck out.

He thinks he can probably go hide at Natasha’s. She’ll give him vodka and she’ll let him mope around for a few days, and then she’ll kick him out and probably tell him something like Счастлив тот, кто счастлив у себя́ дома  and that he needs to talk to Steve. Then Bucky figures he can go to Barton’s, who probably won’t even notice Bucky’s been there until about a week or when he won’t need to take his dog, Lucky, for walks. Bucky can plan the rest of it later. Hell, maybe he can even more back in with his folks. God knows he’s missed Becca, annoying as his sister can be at times.

Only Bucky’s not that successful at pushing Steve away.   _Fucking figures_.

But it’s not really for the reason one might think. Oh no.

The reason Bucky can’t push Steve away is because, all of a sudden, he has a warm weight in his lap.

As in, straddling his legs.

As in, “ _What are you doing_?”

“I’m keeping you from doing something stupid,” Steve tells him, slim legs on either side of Bucky’s hips, his arms around Bucky’s neck, keeping him in place.

“How can I when you took all the stupid with you?” Bucky says weakly, more out of reflex than anything.

Because _Steve’s in his lap_.

With his legs around Bucky’s hips.

And his arms around Bucky’s neck.

And his face _really fuckin’ close_ to Bucky’s face.

And _he knows_.

“Look at me.”

Bucky swallows, his entire world feeling like it’s crumbling around him. He looks up, because Steve asked, because he cannot.

He looks up and Steve’s eyes are blue and bright and focused on him.

He looks up and Steve’s expression is soft and warm and not contorted in disgust like Bucky was expecting.

He looks up-

He looks up and Steve _leans in_.

And that’s when Bucky’s heart trips.

 

***

 

Bucky can say with absolute certainty that he never thought he’d ever get to kiss Steve Rogers in his entire life.

He figured best friends was all they were ever going to be, not only because he didn’t think he’d ever get the guts to tell Steve how he feels but also because he never thought Steve might _feel it back_.

To say Bucky can be a fucking idiot sometimes is an understatement.

But this isn’t one of those times.

Because when Steve kisses him Bucky kisses him _back_.

You know, after going wide-eyed and flailing his arms some and thinking he must have died when he tripped and fell on his face and that this is all a dream.

But after _that_ , well, after that, Bucky kisses the guy he’s in love with.

And as Steve makes a little pleased sound in the back of his throat, his lips warm and wet against Bucky’s, his tongue licking past the seam of Bucky’s lips and slipping inside, Bucky also stops lying to himself.

Because he _is_ in love with Steve. All the way. It’s not just a crush, and he’s not only half way to being head over heels over his best friend. He’s already there.

He wonders what Peggy would think if she saw them right now, if she and Angie would laugh and them and clap and say _took you long enough_. And then he stops wondering, because Steve is pressing closer, his fingers finding their way through Bucky’s hair, and he feels fucking _amazing_ against Bucky and tastes even better.

“Oh,” is all Bucky says when Steve pulls back with a slick sound.

His pale skin is flushed, his lips red and shiny, his eyes dark, and he sounds all kinds of breathless when he says, “Yeah, Buck.”

“Fuck, I love you.”

Which is something that, apparently now that Bucky’s not lying to himself anymore, he has no trouble just blurting it out. Like it’s no big fucking deal. Like it hasn’t been eating him up slowly since he realized that the burst of warmth he felt whenever he looked at Steve wasn’t just because the guy was his best friend.

And Steve, because he’s Steve, surprises Bucky yet again.

“Well, duh.”

Bucky’s jaw goes slack, and he knows he must be looking really fucking dumb right now, but _really_.

“A fella tells you he loves you and that’s all you say back?”

Steve grins, and leans in so he can touch their noses together. “It was the pants, wasn’t it?”

And Bucky is getting whiplash from this conversation. He’s also blushing like it’s nobody’s business, but he’s gonna pretend that’s happening because the room’s warm, not because he got found out.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, pal.”

“You tripped because you were busy staring at my ass, weren’t you?” Steve tells him, still grinning.

“Nope.” Bucky shakes his head. “It was a bird.”

“A bird,” Steve says dryly, raising an eyebrow.

“A red-winged blackbird.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “We don’t have those in New York.”

“How’d you know?”

“Does the name Sam Wilson ring any bells?”

Bucky makes a face, because _damn you, Sam, and your obsession with birds_.

“Alright, so it wasn’t a red-winged blackbird,” Bucky admits.

“No, it wasn’t,” Steve says, shaking his head and nuzzling his nose against Bucky’s.

Bucky melts a little at that, hands finding their way under Steve’s shirt because he’s allowed to do that now.

“So it might have been the pants,” Bucky mutters. “Maybe.”

Steve hums, lips twitching up. “Should I keep them?”

“Won’t Peggy be mad?”

“Doubt it,” Steve says. “She probably planned this.”

“Yeah, I thought so t-,” Bucky startles, and pulls back to look at Steve in the eye. “Why would _you_ think she planned this?”

Steve bites down on his bottom lip and adjusts his glasses, shrugging one shoulder. “I might have, you know…”

“What?”

“Been wantin’ to kiss you for a really long time.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, hands sliding up and down Steve’s back. “And Peggy knew.”

Steve shrugs again.

“We’re both idiots, aren’t we?” Bucky asks, giving in to his wish from before and resting his forehead against Steve’s chest.

“You more than me,” Steve says, lips at the side of Bucky’s head. Bucky lifts his head up only so he can glare at him. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“Too late for that.”

“Yeah, it is,” Steve mutters, a small and soft smile on his lips. “I do, you know?”

“Mind it?”

“Love you,” Steve says, and Bucky is pretty sure his entire world just put itself together again, but this time better. “Have for a while now.”

“That’s good.” Bucky nods. “Otherwise that’d make things real awkward between us, buddy.”

Steve snorts. “You already do that whenever you decide to sing in the shower.”

“My singing is a gift,” Bucky sniffs. “You should be happy you get a free show whenever I shower.”

“Not when the only thing you sing is _Take Me to Church_ every single morning.”

“Maybe now that we’re doing this I’ll sing something else,” Bucky drawls, waggling his eyebrows.

Steve scrunches up his nose, his hands coming up to cover Bucky’s eyes. “That was awful, Buck. How do you get any dates with lines like that?”

Bucky wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrists and pulls them down. “I have other talents.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really,” Bucky says, leaning close.

“You gonna show ‘em to me?”

Bucky grins, sharp and wicked. “Thought you’d never ask.”

 

***

 

Bucky has to stop halfway through trying to give Steve a blowjob because the cut on his chin keeps making things a bit difficult and painful in a way that Bucky doesn’t like.

But then Steve is pulling him up and flipping them over, straddling Bucky much the same way he did when they were in the kitchen. Only this time they’re naked, and Bucky’s hands are holding on tight to Steve’s hips as he watches Steve open himself up. His breath catches in his throat when Steve helps him put on a condom, and the entire world stops when Steve starts lowering himself slowly on Bucky’s dick, his mouth open and brows furrowed in concentration, the tattoos covering his arms and chest and legs in full view.

He’s the most beautiful person Bucky’s ever seen and _fuck_ , does Bucky love him.

And Bucky tells him as much, over and over and over again, as they move together and find a rhythm just perfect for them. And Steve says it right back to him, his hands braced on Bucky’s shoulders as he fucks himself on Bucky’s cock, mouth finding Bucky’s for sloppy and dirty kisses.

Bucky doesn’t look away from Steve’s face when he comes, spilling over Bucky’s hand and making a mess of Bucky’s stomach. He wants to commit the expression on Steve’s face to memory, because no matter how many times they do this - and it’ll probably be _a lot_ , if he has anything to say about it - he still wants to remember the way Steve looked during their first time together.

And yes, not only is Bucky dramatic, but he’s also a _romantic_.

It takes him about three seconds to tip over the edge after Steve comes, just a few hard thrusts while Steve goes boneless on top of him, Steve’s breath harsh and loud and hot against the side of neck. For a second he worries that maybe Steve needs his inhaler, but then he’s too busy coming to care about anything other than how fucking _good_ it feels.

“We need to do that again,” Steve mumbles, making no moves to get out from on top of Bucky.

“I think you need to catch your breath first,” Bucky pants, hand coming to rest over the middle of Steve’s back. “Need your inhaler?”

“‘m good,” Steve tells him. “Love you, Buck.”

“Love you, too, Stevie.”

Bucky feels lips on the edge of his jaw, Steve’s tongue hot and wet against his skin. “Hey, Bucky?”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, turning his head so he can press a kiss to Steve’s temple.

“I’m keeping the pants.”

Bucky blinks.

And then he bursts out laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://hawkguyz.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
